


Talk to Me

by minervamoon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minervamoon/pseuds/minervamoon
Summary: Everyone thinks soulmates are the most wondrous thing ever.  Aziraphale obviously does.  Crowley very definitely does not.Crowley and Aziraphale are still feeling out what eternity means for them after the Armaggedon-That-Wasn't when they receive unbelievable news.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 98





	1. Good News is Bad News

The last thing Crowley had expected to hear when he left his apartment building was Beelzebub’s voice behind him saying, “Hello, Crowley.” The voice was as syrupy sweet as poison and sent Crowley into an instant panic. He spun around on the street, his heartbeat a hummingbird in his chest, and saw the Prince of Hell standing there as the rest of the world passed around them without notice.

No! Crowley thought to himself. They should have had more time than this. It had only been a few days since the trials. Hell couldn’t have figured out their trick so fast. And if they had, had they told Heaven? His body went suddenly cold in fear for Aziraphale. 

“Lord Beelzebub,” stammered Crowley. His eyes flicked to the Bentley just steps away. Could he make it? Could he get to Aziraphale before whatever Heaven sent after him? “W-what’s shaking?” he continued, trying to force himself to be calm and knowing he was failing.

“I’ve come to bring you news, Crowley,” said Beelzebub, a malicious grin on the prince’s face. “You’re fired.”

Crowley waited for flames. Holy Water hadn’t worked, why not try Hellfire? But none came. Crowley glanced around himself. “Uh-pardon?”

“You’re fired. Or forcibly retired. I honestly don’t care what you want to call it. You are no longer allowed in Hell. We can’t trust you.”

“We’re demons,” came out of Crowley’s mouth, shock making him less cautious than he should have been. “Isn’t that just what we’re supposed to do?”

“ _We_ are demons, Crowley,” said Beelzebub, stressing the ‘we’. “You? I don’t know what you are anymore, except pathetic.” The disgusted wrinkle of the prince’s nose cut Crowley more than he thought it would have. It wasn’t as though he liked the other demons, but he cared about what they thought of him. Pride and all.

“So you’re just going to let me go?” Something wasn’t adding up for Crowley.

Beelzebub shrugged. “We already tried to destroy you and failed. What else can we do?” For some reason, the apathy in Beelzebub’s voice was more worrisome to Crowley that if they had been enraged. 

“And that’s it? Lord Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, came all this way just to fire me from Hell?” That was the problem. This was too low a task for Beelzebub. It had to be a trick of some sort.

“I just wanted to see if being told you could never return to Heaven or Hell would hurt you or not. Obviously, it doesn’t.” Beelzebub sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” They both stood in silence until the prince waved a dismissive hand. “Go on. Run along. I’m sure you’re aching to tell your soulmate the good news.”

Crowley had been about to bolt to the Bentley but froze. “My what?”

“Your soulmate,” repeated Beelzebub slowly. Blue eyes narrowed and evaluated Crowley. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“Aziraphale and I-we aren’t-” Crowley couldn’t make the words come out around his heart which had lodged itself in his throat.

“Oh, but you are.” Beelzebub’s tone and expression were pure disgust. “We did a little digging to figure out how you could survive Holy Water. We even got help from upstairs. They were equally curious. So curious in fact that they went so far as to pull your file from before your Fall. And there it was.” Beelzebub glared at Crowley. “I don’t know which is worse; that you chose your precious angel over Hell or the fact you didn’t even try to get him to Fall before you turned on us.”

“But we aren’t-” 

Crowley was alone on the sidewalk, save for the humans going about their day, some glancing back at the daft fool talking to himself. 

Soulmates? Crowley swallowed hard around the lump in his throat that wouldn’t go away. Could it be true? Aziraphale and he- Could that even happen? Between an angel and a demon? It had never happened before, not that he’d heard of at least. But, that didn’t mean it couldn’t. Crowley was numb as he got into the Bentley and started driving. Hell had to be lying. It was the only thing that made sense. But why? Why would they tell him something like that? What did they gain from it?

Crowley realized he was driving to Aziraphale’s with a cold suddenness. He hadn’t been consciously thinking about it, just pure muscle memory. His heart started beating a frantic rhythm. Crowley yanked the steering wheel to the right and the Bentley came to a screeching halt.

It wasn’t true, any of it. He didn’t save the world just for Aziraphale’s sake. There were loads of things that he had wanted to keep doing, and only a few of them had to do with the angel. Maybe half of them, he admitted to himself, but definitely no more than three-fifths. And so what if he was just possibly a tiny bit in love with Aziraphale? He didn’t think it was possible to spend time with Aziraphale and not grow to love him just a little. He’d given away a flaming sword for crying out loud. Who wouldn’t fall for someone so pure? But soulmates? No, that just wasn’t possible, not for them. 

Maybe it was a mistake? Heaven could make mistakes, just look at Gabriel. A whole mess of mistakes right there.

Crowley’s phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Aziraphale’s name on the caller ID. Taking a steadying breath, he answered. “Lo?”

“Crowley? Are you there?” asked Aziraphale’s voice, sounding more bubbly and excited than usual. Please be a new sweet shop, Crowley thought to himself.

“Yeah, Angel. I just said, ‘Lo.’ What’s up?”

“Can you come over? I have something to tell you, but I don’t think I can say it over the phone.”

Crowley’s chest tightened and his mouth went dry. “I-” he coughed and tried again. “I was actually on my way over. Be there in a few.”

“Oh, good!” Aziraphale sounded even happier than before. Crowley couldn’t breathe. “I’ll see you soon.”

Crowley grunted in agreement and listened to the line disconnect. That didn’t sound like excitement over a new sweet shop. Crowley swallowed again, his heart just wouldn’t behave.

Aziraphale was waiting for him at the door when Crowley stopped the Bentley and got out. The angel was practically bouncing as he ushered Crowley inside the shop, locking the door behind him. The sign had already been turned to ‘Closed.’

“I just had a visit from Gabriel,” said Aziraphale, his voice a rush of excitement. Even so, Crowley had a moment of protective panic.

“What did he do?” asked Crowley worriedly. “Are you all right?” The words came out of his mouth unbidden. They made Aziraphale’s face brighten more than Crowley would have thought possible. 

“I’m fine, _dear_.” Aziraphale blushed and Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. There was more weight to the little word, the pet name, than there had been before. “Better than fine, really. He had the most amazing news. You’re not going to believe it. I didn’t believe it at first. But, it just fits.” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley, his smile like the sun. “Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself. First the bad news. I’ve been demoted again.”

“Demoted? They sacked me,” said Crowley, thinking out loud.

Aziraphale’s smile faltered just a bit. “They sacked you? Can a demon get sacked?”

“I’m guessing so since it just happened.”

“That’s even better! That means no more having to hide on both our sides.”

Crowley opened his mouth to say, ‘We’re on our side,’ but stopped as Aziraphale took his hands in his own. “W-what are you going on about, Angel?” he asked. He loved the feel of Aziraphale’s hands, soft and warm. Aziraphale flushed as he gave Crowley a shy smile. Crowley’s stomach exploded into butterflies.

“That’s the good news,” said Aziraphale. He looked down at their joined hands, gave them a gentle squeeze, then looked up at Crowley. “We’re soulmates, dear.”

Aziraphale was beaming at him now, his face utterly joyous. Crowley balked. He yanked his hands free and scowled, backing away and making Aziraphale’s brows knit together in confusion.

“It has to be some mistake, right?” asked Crowley, his voice high with renewed panic.

“It does? Why?” Aziraphale took a step closer. Crowley took another step backward. “Aren’t you happy? I thought-Crowley, I thought you had feelings for me. We defied Heaven and Hell for each other.”

“We defied them for the Earth, remember? For restaurants and bookshops and decent music,” babbled Crowley, words tumbling out without thought.

Aziraphale straightened his shoulders. “Yes, we did, the first time. What about the second time?”

“We were saving each other’s skin. We owed each other that much.” Crowley felt sick saying that to Aziraphale. He had faced the archangels for him, and he would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to. But it was the why that was the problem.

“Crowley, I can’t believe that, not after what Gabriel told me.”

Crowley exploded, irrationally angry at Aziraphale’s acceptance of something so wrong. “So that’s it then? Nothing else matters? None of the other reasons mean anything because we’re soulmates? Every decision we’ve ever made was because God decided to tie our souls together?”

Aziraphale’s bewildered expression became shadowed with the beginnings of sadness. “Do you not want to be my soulmate?” His voice was high and tight. It was a dagger in Crowley’s heart. Crowley wanted to take his words back. He wanted to make Aziraphale smile and laugh again. He wanted it so badly that he had to force his next words out.

“I want to choose who I love, Angel, not be told.”

Crowley stepped around Aziraphale and to the door. He fumbled with the handle blindly until he got it open. Aziraphale might have been calling his name, he might have been cursing at him, he might have been crying. Crowley couldn’t stop to check. He had to get far away before his own tears broke free.

****

Elsewhere in London another angel and demon were meeting under a bridge.

Gabriel picked his steps carefully through the human refuse and filth that was everywhere down here. He couldn’t understand why Aziraphale had fought so hard to save this.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Beelzebub stepping out from the deepest shadows. “Is it done?”

Gabriel did not like being spoken to like one of the demon’s subordinates. He glared at the Prince of Hell. “Yes, demon. It’s done, though I still don’t see how telling them they’re soulmates does anything to punish them. Aziraphale was giddy over the news.”

Beelzebub’s face broke into a truly evil grin. “Perfect.”

Gabriel tried not to gag from the stench wafting from a storm drain. “Perfect, how? You will answer me, demon.”

Beelzebub buzzed a growl at his tone, but the growl became a chuckle that held no true mirth in it. It was a vindictive, petty sound. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant to Gabriel, given the circumstances. “You don’t remember Crowley from before the Fall, do you?

Gabriel frowned at the direction the conversation was taking. “Should I?”

Beelzebub shrugged. “Not particularly, no. But if you did, you’d know that one thing has never changed. Crowley is his own worst enemy. Give him the right push and he’ll destroy his own happiness, and his angel’s, all by himself.”


	2. Where We Stand

Crowley was woken from his stupor by a shake to his shoulder and a familiar, beautiful, concerned voice. Crowley lifted his head from his desk, arm sliding across it to brace his upper body and knocking over a whiskey bottle in the process. “Angel? What are you doing here?” He stared blearily at the hazy Aziraphale standing over him. “I am in my flat, right?”

“Yes. Good Lord, how much have you had to drink?” asked Aziraphale, taking in the multitude of liquor bottles on Crowley’s desk.

“Good,” muttered Crowley aloud. He hadn’t gotten drunk and gone over to Aziraphale’s. It wouldn’t have been the first time that had happened, but it didn’t need to happen. That thought made him realize he was not nearly drunk enough and he reached for one of the bottles. Aziraphale sighed and pushed it out of Crowley’s reach.

“I need to talk to you,” said Aziraphale, “so I need you to sober up.”

Crowley frowned up at Aziraphale, who was starting to be less fuzzy and more tangible. Tangible. Able to be touched. Yes, Aziraphale was right there. It would be so easy to just reach out and touch him. Satan, how many centuries had Crowley been torturing himself with that thought? He turned away from the angel. “Can’t,” he mumbled.

“Oh, yes you can. You just don’t want to.” Aziraphale didn’t sound angry, he sounded frustrated and hurt. Crowley didn’t want to hurt him. He’d never wanted to hurt him. And he should have, he was a demon after all. But no, not when it came to Aziraphale, and right there was the problem. When it came to Aziraphale, all bets were off. 

Aziraphale crouched down and turned Crowley’s face towards his own. “Please? For me?”

Fuck, Crowley thought to himself. “Doing things for you is the problem,” he grumbled aloud while looking into Aziraphale’s pleading eyes. With a growl, he sat back and concentrated. The alcohol flushed from his system but in its stead came the full weight of the last time he’d seen Aziraphale. It fell heavy and painful on him. He immediately regretted getting sober.

“Thank you, Crowley,” said Aziraphale while Crowley grimaced at the taste sobering up left in his mouth. Aziraphale’s smile was warm but careful. “About the other day.”

Crowley stood quickly and moved away, putting much-needed space between him and Aziraphale. He had been trying to keep distance between them since that day. Being drunk made it easier, as long as he was too drunk to leave the flat.

Aziraphale got to his feet. “Crowley, I think I deserve an explanation. I thought you’d be as excited as I was by the news. If I was wrong, just tell me. But if,” he paused, uncertain. “That is, I got the impression you felt something but, well, it frightened you.”

Crowley started to pace, nervous energy needing an outlet. “I told you what I thought about the ‘good news’ already.”

“And I don’t understand it. Please, just talk to me. You won’t answer my calls, otherwise I wouldn’t have cornered you like this.”

“Can’t you just drop this?” asked Crowley, trying to keep his voice neutral and not let it sound as pleading as the words felt, as they were.

“No,” said Aziraphale firmly. “I have been wishing for us to be free, for us to be able to be us. And now that we can, you-you run off. You don’t want it.” His voice began to tremble. “I don’t understand why.” His eyes were watery with unshed tears. They twisted in Crowley’s heart.

Crowley’s pacing quickened, he ran his hands through his hair, agitated to near panic by the fact Aziraphale was about to cry and it was his fault. And what he was about to say wasn’t going to stop the tears, but it was what Aziraphale said he wanted to hear. “Don’t you get it, Angel? If we are-If that’s true, then it means that nothing we’ve ever done was our own choice. We never had free will, just an illusion made to trick us into falling in line with that bloody plan.”

Crowley had expected the tears to fall. He hadn’t expected Aziraphale’s shoulders to straighten, or anger to shine through the tears. “You didn’t have any problem with falling in line with the bloody plan when it saved your arse a few days ago.” 

Crowley snarled in frustration. “That was different. That was the Almighty banking on our free will to make the right choices. But if we’re-” Crowley motioned between the two of them.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Crowley!” sputtered Aziraphale in exasperation. “Just use the blasted word. Soulmates. If we’re soulmates what then?”

“If we’re soulmates,” Crowley hated and loved that word in equal measure and that was another infuriating part of this mess, “then we didn’t really have a choice, we were always going to make the choice God wanted us to make.”

Aziraphale stared at him with a perplexed expression. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Of course it is! How could it not be?”

“I don’t see that it matters how we got here as long as we’re here now.”

Crowley rubbed at his face and muttered, “Damned blind faith.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means,” hissed Crowley. “You spent six thousand years pretending we don’t even know each other and then one word from the Almighty Arse and you’re ready to go pick out the china?” He shook his head.

“Because I’m happy! For the first time, I can say that we’re friends. I can admit that I love you. And I bloody well do want to pick out china patterns with you, you daft demon!”

Crowley closed his eyes, unable to look at the pain in Aziraphale’s face. “You actually said it,” he whispered, heart swelling and breaking at the same time.

“That bit about the china?” Aziraphale asked in confusion. “Oh, it sounds so lovely, doesn’t it?”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open and a snort escaped him, followed by a laugh, then a sob. More sobs followed, he couldn’t stop them now that they had come, and he sank to his knees. Aziraphale came to him, kneeling before him and wrapping him up in his arms. He held him like that until the tears subsided.

“Crowley,” said Aziraphale softly, not letting go of Crowley. Crowley needed him to because he wasn’t sure he had the strength to push him away. “Why do you think our being soulmates means we have no free will?”

Crowley let his forehead rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder. That small gesture couldn’t matter much. And Aziraphale just radiated warmth. Crowley could take just a little bit of it and his resolve not completely crumble, right? “We’re an angel and a demon, Angel,” said Crowley, breathing in the scent of Aziraphale. Even his scent was warm. “You’ve said countless times that we’re enemies, yet neither one of us could stay away from the other. We kept finding each other, searching each other out, making excuses, saving one another. I know I wouldn’t have done that for any other angel.” Crowley dragged himself up to watch Aziraphale’s face. He’d always had his reasons why he treated Aziraphale so, but now it was all tainted.

“That doesn’t prove anything, you’re simply different from other demons.”

“Because I was made for you?” Crowley’s voice cracked as he said those words.

“And I was made for you,” replied Aziraphale, cupping Crowley’s face between his hands. “But that doesn’t mean we have no free will. If I had no free will I would have left with you when you asked.”

Crowley felt a flash of hope, a burning ember in his chest, but it quickly died. “You still thought you could stop everything.”

Aziraphale’s hands dropped from his face. “Now you’re just making excuses,” he said in an annoyed huff. “You were going to leave me behind.”

Crowley shook his head. “Never. I was never going to go without you. Even when I thought you were gone I didn’t leave. I wanted to get shit-faced because what did any of it matter without you?”

“Oh, dear,” husked Aziraphale softly.

“And remember what you said to me? ‘Do something or I’ll never speak to you again?’ And it worked?” Crowley’s voice cracked and he coughed to keep it from turning into more sobbing.

“Dearest, that’s love,” said Aziraphale, his voice imploring Crowley to understand that simple fact.

“I know, but if we were always meant to be in love, then there was no-” Crowley sighed, tired of fighting, tired of resisting. He was a demon. Giving in to temptation was what he was supposed to be about, wasn’t it? Then was he always meant to Fall? Was even that out of his control? He’d never meant to Fall, but if it was something that had been meant to happen, then he had been punished for something he truly had no choice in. Crowley pushed himself to his feet. “My free will is all I have, Angel.”

Aziraphale reached out and grabbed his hand, clung to it. “You have me, Crowley. You always have.”

Crowley wished that was enough. He wanted so badly to let that be enough, to just have and take and love. “I can’t,” he said out loud. “I can’t throw away my free will, Angel, not even for you.” He pulled his hand free and stepped away, knowing that was the end of it. The only way he could prove he had free will was to never give in to what they both wanted. He turned his back to Aziraphale to give the angel a moment to compose himself, to leave him for the last time.

After what seemed like an eternity there was the soft rustle of fabric behind Crowley. Crowley could see him adjusting his coat and tie without looking. How many times had he seen it, he could picture it perfectly, he always would.

“If that’s how it must be,” said Aziraphale said with a resigned sigh, “then there’s no other choice but to accept your terms.”

That was it then. The final nail on the coffin as they say.

“Look at the time. Fancy a spot of lunch, Crowley?”

Crowley was taken aback enough to turn and stare at Aziraphale in utter shock. “What now?”

“Crowley, honestly,” chided Aziraphale. “We’ve known each other for six millennia now and been friends for I don’t know how many centuries at least, and I’d rather have you in my life as not. If the only way to make that happen is to remain merely friends, then so be it. I was thinking that cafe with the delectable chocolate mousse cake. How does that sound?” 

Crowley’s knees nearly gave out as relief washed over him. He wasn’t going to lose Aziraphale. The thought should make him angry, more proof that his life wasn’t his to decide, but he was just too emotionally exhausted to care. They could do this, they could just be friends. Hadn’t they been doing that for Satan knew how long already? Crowley felt lighter than he had in what felt like an eternity. He smiled at Aziraphale and snapped his fingers to freshen up his clothes and hair.

“That sounds just fine, Angel,” said Crowley. Aziraphale beamed at him and they headed for the door, Crowley pausing only a second to grab his sunglasses from his desk.

****

“They don’t look tormented to me,” said Gabriel as he came to stand next to Beelzebub. They were on a rooftop and looking down at a human eating establishment. Through the window, he could just make out Aziraphale and Crowley sitting together.

“Take it from the professional, they are,” replied Beelzebub, practically purring with vindictive glee. “Crowley won’t let himself be with his angel but he can’t stay away either." A wicked cackle trickled out of the demon’s lips. “It’s always the most fun when they do it to themselves.”

Gabriel watched Beelzebub out of the corner of his eye, their devious smile curling the edges of their mouth. “It would be admirable how much you enjoy your work if you weren’t a demon.”

Beelzebub cut pale blue eyes to Gabriel. “Don’t act so high and mighty. You’re enjoying their pain as much as I am.” 

Gabriel rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “Only because, as an angel, I wish to see justice served. You’re just doing this for your own perverse pleasure.”

Beelzebub turned to regard Gabriel more thoroughly, cocking a slender hip. “And what do you know about perverse pleasures, angel?”

Gabriel was taken aback by the sultry amusement in their voice. He straightened his back against the implications. “You’re finding pleasure in it, so it must be perverse. Don’t try to insinuate that you and I are anything alike.”

“Mmm-hmm,” hummed Beelzebub, the sound having a soft buzz to it that made the hairs on the back of Gabriel’s neck stand up. He shivered at the reaction. Beelzebub cast their blue eyes up and down Gabriel and he suddenly felt self-conscious. He looked down at himself, checking for stains. Beelzebub laughed a strange, throaty sort of laugh. “You angels are a riot, pointing an accusing finger at everyone but yourselves.”

Gabriel barked a laugh in Beelzebub’s face. “Demon, don’t presume to pass judgement on me.”

Beelzebub held up one surprisingly dainty finger. “One word.” The finger motioned to Gabriel’s finely-tailored suit. “Vanity.”

Gabriel froze in surprise, shock, and growing horror. Beelzebub laughed again and strode by him, a little extra swing in their step. They patted him on the shoulder in passing.

“Go on, have a little _pride_ in your appearance,” said the demon as a parting shot. “What harm could it do?”


	3. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub and Gabriel have another little chat, and then they stop talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still new to AO3 ratings and tags, so I'm leaving the ones for this fic as they are. If people feel if I should change the rating to Explicit, or add any tags, please let me know.

Gabriel saw Beelzebub’s reflection a second before the demon spoke the words, “Nice jacket,” in a taunting voice. Gabriel felt his face flush but shook it off as he snapped and froze his tailor.

“Your words do not upset me, demon. It is no sin to take care of one’s appearance when one is doing so to show respect for their work and their superiors, which is what I am doing.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” said Beelzebub. By this point, they had made their way to where Gabriel stood and leaned against the mirror. 

Gabriel gave them a searing, side-eye glare. “I shudder to think what your superior says about the way you dress,” he scoffed, nose wrinkling in displeasure.

“‘Would it kill you to show a little more leg?’”

Gabriel jerked away from Beelzebub, a flush rising in his face again. “I beg your pardon!”

Beelzebub laughed, a real, warm, amused laugh. “Oh, you should see your face!” they said, leaning fully against the mirror frame. Gabriel could see his face quite clearly in the mirror. It was embarrassingly shocked and splotchy. He tried to get himself back under control. “But you did ask what he said,” added the demon, wiping away a tear of mirth from one eye.

“I did not,” said Gabriel, cringing internally at the defensive tone in his words. “He actually says that to you?”

“Among other things, but I won’t shock you with those, angel. I just came to check up on the lovebirds. You seen them?”

“They went for a walk together, I believe,” replied Gabriel, glancing at his tailor. Hopefully Beelzebub would go to find them and leave him alone to finish his business. And for a moment it looked like they would. Beelzebub stood up from their lean and started ambling through the shop, but then they ran their fingers over a blood-red silk tie, plucking it from a display. “They’ve seen each other every day, but their happiness is tainted with pain. You were right.” Gabriel added the last grudgingly.

“Of course I’m right,” said Beelzebub flippantly. “One would think they really are soulmates the way they carry on.”

“They are soulmates,” replied Gabriel. “I checked their records myself.”

Beelzebub stopped, the tie dangling from those dainty fingers. “What?”

“I was just as surprised as you are, but the numbers don’t lie.”

“But soulmates aren’t real,” insisted Beelzebub. The hand with the tie went out in a sweeping motion. “It’s just something humans made up to make themselves feel better when we tempt them into cheating on their loved ones. No one can be made to be perfect for someone else.”

“That’s true.” Gabriel straightened the collar of the suit coat he was trying on for something to do. “Each soul is made to be unique unto themselves, but there’s nothing that says one unique soul won’t be made that perfectly matches another. Then you take into account life experiences,” Gabriel shrugged. “It’s all just a numbers game. The fact that those two are soulmates is an extraordinary coincidence, but it’s still just numbers.”

“But it doesn’t ezzizt!” cried Beelzebub, infuriated enough to buzz.

Gabriel smiled smugly, reveling in the demon’s annoyance and the fact he knew something the Prince of Hell didn’t. He strode over to the demon, back straight and hands clasped behind his back. The poise of someone in complete control of the situation. “Humans came up with the name, we took it for the phenomenon. If you didn’t think they were real, why come up with this plan?”

Beelzebub growled but reigned in their anger. “I thought it was something that the humans made up that you lot took credit for, which I suppose isn’t far from the truth. And I knew Crowley was stupid enough to believe it.” A vulpine smile curled the demon’s lips. “And I figured if all angels are as thick-headed as you, then Crowley’s angel would believe it if it came from you.”

“Now see here, demon,” snapped Gabriel, jabbing his finger into Beelzebub’s chest. Beelzebub looked down at the finger slowly. A second later the giant fly leapt from its master’s head and straight at Gabriel’s face. Gabriel jumped back on instinct. Then he felt the impact of the demon’s foot at his knee, buckling it and causing him to fall to the floor. Beelzebub was over him in an instant, the silk tie knotted into a noose which they looped around Gabriel’s neck and pulling tight. The slick fabric cut off his air as his hands tried to remove it.

“Touch me again and I will take your hands as trophies,” snarled Beelzebub, those pale blue eyes burning into Gabriel like Hellfire. Then they got up and walked away from him, whistling for the familiar which flew from its perch on a shelf and took up its position on its master’s head again.

Gabriel laid there for only a second or two, then jumped to his feet. He stormed out of the shop, a sword forming in his hand. The humans passed by unaware as he charged the demon’s back. His sword glowed with holy light. There was a flutter from the insect’s wings just as Gabriel brought his sword down.

Beelzebub spun and met Gabriel’s sword with their own, a black blade as dark as a moonless night. Wings of a similar black hue sprouted from their back and Beelzebub took to the sky. Gabriel grinned as his own wings appeared and he gave chase.

This! This was what he wanted, holy and infernal steel meeting between the two of them. There would have to be a war if he slew Beelzebub. The thought thrilled him to his core. They flew at one another, their swords ringing together like claps of thunder. Beelzebub charged him, diving from their temporary high ground. Gabriel dodged just in time and the demon banked, skimming over a rooftop and coming to land there. Gabriel joined them and the pair circled one another. Gabriel could see the bloodlust in the demon’s eyes and licked his lips. His sword glowed brighter. Beelzebub’s sword began to drip fat droplets of some black ichor as if the blade itself was salivating. The drops sizzled on the rooftop

They both lunged at the same time. The fly buzzed for Gabriel’s face as before, but Gabriel was ready. He spun away from both attacks, swatting the fly away with the flat of his blade and sending the familiar crashing onto the rough rooftop with a dull thud. He barely had time to bring his sword back around, slashing in a wide arc to block Beelzebub’s next attack. Beelzebub stopped their charge just as the tip of Gabriel’s sword grazed their chest, cutting into cloth and skin. Gabriel could smell blood and grinned wickedly at his opponent. Beelzebub returned the grin with one of their own and slashed upwards with their sword. They were too far away to connect but a splatter of the substance landed across Gabriel’s chest and cheek, burning. Gabriel cried out in shock and recoiled, rubbing at the filth on his face with his sleeve. Beelzebub dashed in for another lunge. Gabriel blocked the blade with his own. More black sludge dripped onto Gabriel’s hand, burning his flesh. He hissed and shoved the demon away. Beelzebub caught their balance quickly and came in for another strike, sending Gabriel’s sword from his damaged hand. Gabriel backpedaled and lost his footing. He landed hard on his back. Beelzebub’s smile was pure evil as they straddled him, sword held high and pointed at his throat. Gabriel grabbed at Beelzebub’s delicate-looking wrists, feeling the coiled power in them. The demon shifted their weight to bring the sword down, causing the demon to rub themself against Gabriel’s groin. 

Pleasure scorched through Gabriel’s body, escaping in a shameful groan. Beelzebub stayed their hand, then rolled their hips against Gabriel again. Gabriel’s hands went to those hips, gripping tightly to keep them from moving and completely forgetting the sword about to end him. But Beelzebub’s hands were suddenly empty of said sword though. They were wrapped around the red tie still looped around Gabriel’s neck. The tie was pulled taut as the demon’s lips crashed into his. Gabriel was assaulted by the scent, taste, and feel of Beelzebub against his lips, in his hands, and grinding on top of him.

Gabriel squeezed those slender hips and made indecent noises as Beelzebub’s teeth nibbled on his bottom lip. His own hips bucked up against Beelzebub, pulling them down against the hardness in his trousers. Beelzebub let go of the tie and raked their fingers down Gabriel’s chest before reaching the buckle of his belt. Gabriel groaned and bucked again as Beelzebub got his clothes open, shoving them down over his ass. Then the demon settled over him again. Where their trousers had gone and when Gabriel had no clue. All he knew was the feel of their bare skin and the welcoming heat found between Beelzebub’s thighs. Beelzebub’s lovely fingers wrapped around Gabriel’s swollen cock and guided him inside. Gabriel was swept away by the wet, tight heat engulfing him. He let out a desperate groan and the two of them set a frantic rhythm.

Time made no sense anymore. They could have been there for minutes or days. The passion inside Gabriel kept growing, kept doubling until there was nowhere else to go but out. Words tumbled from his lips, filthy words about how good it felt. Beelzebub gave a moan unlike anything Gabriel had heard before, Lust made sound, as their back arched. It went into his ears, down his spine, and into his cock. Gabriel had no choice but to come. An explosion of electric pleasure than sent his body moving out of his control, snapping his hips up into Beelzebub until he was completely empty. Beelzebub, for their part, rode it out, their passage spasming and squeezing out every last drop. Gabriel’s body went limp against the rough roof of the building. Beelzebub braced their arms against Gabriel’s chest, locking their elbows as if it was all that was keeping them from collapsing on top of him. Gabriel found himself wanting them to, wanting the petite demon to catch their breath on his chest. Instead, Beelzebub took a deep breath and stood up from him. A snap of their fingers returned them to fully dressed. Without a word the demon walked away from him for a second time, only pausing to pick up their familiar before flying away. 

Gabriel laid there for several minutes, watching the sun and clouds move across the sky.

“FUCK!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to stay at least one chapter ahead of what I've posted, but readying for the impending holiday has killed that momentum. Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter out soon, but it's turning out longer than I had originally expected. I could cut it into two though. Would you rather wait for one long chapter, or have me post a shorter part?
> 
> And, just in case anyone's interested, I got the name for this fic from _Talk to Me_ by Lauren Aquilina.


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale holds fast to his beliefs on the subject of soulmates, but past actions might give weight to Crowley's argument.

The sun was warm overhead, but there was the promise of autumn in the air. There was also the roll of faint thunder.

“Didn’t think it was supposed to rain today,” murmured Crowley, looking to the sky nervously. Aziraphale followed his gaze. The clouds certainly didn’t look like it was about to storm, so he could understand Crowley’s unspoken worry. Aziraphale watched Crowley’s profile, sun shining in his auburn hair, setting it on fire and glowing on his skin. Aziraphale let out a soft sigh of wonder at the beautiful creature that was his, finally. Without thinking he slipped his arm around Crowley’s to continue their walk. Oh, they were in a sticky spot at the moment, but they had time to work that out as long as they were together. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing, dear,” soothed Aziraphale. Crowley’s face turned from Heaven to Aziraphale’s hand resting in the crook of his elbow. Aziraphale could feel the tensing of muscle under his fingers. Too much, he realized belatedly. Downtrodden, Aziraphale began to pull away. His heart fluttered when Crowley caught his hand and put it back where it had been, giving it a little squeeze. Aziraphale couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. An apology had been on his lips, but he didn’t give it voice. He could see Crowley’s gesture for what it was, the proverbial olive branch. Crowley was giving him what he could. After so long forced to pretend they didn’t feel how they felt, this small acknowledgement meant more to Aziraphale than he’d expected. Aziraphale tightened his grip around Crowley’s arm before the mercurial demon could change his mind. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Aziraphale decided to extend his own olive branch of sorts. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about free will.”

“You have?” asked Crowley hesitantly.

Aziraphale shifted, tightening his hold on Crowley just a fraction more. “Yes. I still don’t agree with your thoughts on soulmates, but I do see how you could come to that conclusion. There are certainly things we have done for one another that make little sense save for the context of us being soulmates.”

“And how does that not agree with me?”

“Because I still feel as though I made a choice each time. It might have gone against my better judgement, but it was still my choice. My decision.”

Crowley stopped walking, forcing Aziraphale to either let him go or stop, so Aziraphale stopped as well. “So you admit that you’ve done things for me that you knew you shouldn’t but you did them because it’s me?” He paused pointedly. 

Aziraphale sighed. “That’s what I just said.”

“And the only reason you did it was because it was me.”

“Dear, I didn’t bring this up to argue with you. I just wanted you to know I understand your confusion.” Aziraphale knew that was the wrong thing to say the second it passed his lips.

“I’m not confused,” said Crowley defensively.

Aziraphale turned to face Crowley fully. He had to let go of Crowley’s arm, but he caught the demon’s hand before he could get away completely. “I feel you are mistaking love and compassion with a lack of free will.” He knew he was pushing, coming close to starting another fight, but Crowley wasn’t going to sway him on this. “Being your soulmate may have affected my decisions, but they’re still mine. I could have chosen something else. If anything I have less free will as an angel than as your soulmate. I was given orders, not choices.”

Crowley gave him a crooked grin. “Careful, Angel. People have Fallen for less than that.” His voice was teasing, but the tenseness Aziraphale could feel radiating off him belied the casual tone.

Aziraphale gave Crowley’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been fired, dear. Falling has no appeal for me now.” He had meant it as a joke, mostly he admitted to himself, but Crowley’s utterly stricken expression was plain even with the barrier of his sunglasses.

“You would have Fallen? For me?” asked Crowley, voice catching in his throat.

Aziraphale felt his face heat. How had they gotten to this? “I-I may have toyed with the idea over the last few millennia,” he replied nervously. “It didn’t seem that hard, taking credit for the humans’ own actions. And then I wouldn’t have had to deny our friendship. But I never gave it serious thought,” he added quickly. “I’d make a terrible demon. I can’t not help when I can.” He chuckled. “I mean, just look at what I did at Dud-” Aziraphale cut himself off, covering his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said, watching Crowley’s face. “I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

They both cast their eyes Heavenward, mostly out of habit, but there was still the small fear of being found out, especially in this. Then Crowley cleared his throat. “Maybe we should go?” His whole demeanor was somber now. Aziraphale could have cursed. Why did he have to bring that up?

****

Aziraphale knew what he was doing was dangerous, reckless, foolhardy, he didn’t know enough words to describe what he was doing, but still, he flew on. He had to see for himself. 

_”And then we tied him to the mountainside. That will teach him to go around sharing forbidden knowledge.”_

Aziraphale’s heart had sank listening to the angels boasting about punishing one of the Fallen. He’d never heard the name Azazel before, but when Raphael had mentioned apples, Aziraphale had quietly slipped away and took to the air.

The sun was high in the sky when Aziraphale spotted him tied to jagged rocks, bare to the sun and baking stone beneath him save for a blindfold. Aziraphale knew it was him by the red curls, once a beautiful cascade but now a tangled ness. Bruises decorated his sharp features. Aziraphale swallowed against the pity bubbling up inside him and landed near the demon’s head. He let out a shocked gasp as his feet touched the stone. They had consecrated the ground. 

Aziraphale dropped to his knees and took hold of Crawly’s head. The quiet, exhausted whimpers of pain turned sharp, tinged with panic. “Shhh, it’s me,” said Aziraphale as he removed the blindfold. Crawly blinked up at him against the glare of the sun. Aziraphale moved his wings to give him shade. “Just give me a moment and I’ll have you out of here.” He knew the kind of trouble he’d be in if Upstairs found out, and Raphael and his people were still far too close by, but Aziraphale couldn’t leave Crawly like this. The shackles holding Crawly to the rocks were holy steel, between that and the consecrated ground, no demon would be able to help him. Aziraphale looked at the blistered, charred skin on Crawly’s wrist. The smell of burnt flesh was thick and putrid in his nose and throat. Crawly’s hoarse, anguished groans were ringing in his ears, and those golden eyes were watching him, begging him for help.

Aziraphale removed the shackles as quickly as he could. Crawly’s taut posture went lax, then he screamed at the fresh agony of his skin touching the ground. The rocks were slick with blood seeping from his wounds.

“This is going to hurt,” warned Aziraphale, holding one of Crawly’s hands in his. Crawly watched him with pain-glazed eyes and nodded once. Aziraphale put the demon’s arm around his neck and put his own around Crawly’s waist. Crawly let out another wail of pain at the contact. “Sorry! Sorry!” 

He gave Crawly a second to catch his breath then heaved. Crawly tried to help, Aziraphale could feel it, but he was too weak. He collapsed against Aziraphale with weak, pained whimpers. “It’s all right,” soothed Aziraphale. He braced himself for the pain he was about to inflict and scooped Crawly up into his arms. Crawly’s body went rigid in pain, mouth open in a silent scream, then his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp. Aziraphale didn’t dare even breathe for several seconds, expecting Crawly to discorporate in his arms. But he didn’t, he’d only passed out. Aziraphale relaxed. At least he wasn’t in pain that way.

Aziraphale spread his wings and took to the sky once again, cradling Crawly close against him. He flew as fast and as far as he could. He had to get far enough away so that Raphael wouldn’t think to look there. He made it as far as he could before he had to stop. His wings were aching and he wasn’t sure how much longer they’d keep them aloft. He’d never had this problem before, but corporeal forms had their limits.

He spotted a cave, the mouth all but hidden by scruffy vegetation, and he landed there. He let his wings vanish, rolling his shoulders at their absence. Even if it was more comfortable not having them around when they were sore he still felt their loss. His movements jostled Crawly who groaned slightly but didn’t wake. Aziraphale carried him inside the cave and miracled light, then a feather mattress. As carefully as he could he laid Crawly on the mattress face down. That’s when he finally got a good look at the carnage.

There was no other word to describe it. Crawly’s entire back, his buttocks, and most of his legs were all one open wound of bloody, charred flesh. It turned Aziraphale’s stomach and made his eyes burn with tears. Not that he was crying over a demon, but that angels could cause such pain and take pride in it. This was horrifying. _This_ was demonic.

Aziraphale raised his hand to begin healing, but paused, fingers hovering over the damage. Healing was a blessing, a gift from God herself. Could he even heal a demon, or would it do more harm than good? He pulled his hand back against his chest. He had to do something, but what? His fingers fidgeted with the neck of his robes as he tried to think.

“Crawly?” called Aziraphale softly. “If you can hear me, I’m going to fetch some water.” It was entirely too little, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. At least he could clean the wounds, and hopefully, cool water would give some relief to the pain. He waited but got no response. “Just stay here,” he added, then shook his head at himself. Like Crawly was going anywhere in this condition. Aziraphale sighed at his foolishness and left. He returned quickly with a large clay bowl he’d miracled into existence and full of the promised water from a nearby river. He settled next to Crawly and, without preamble, tore one of his blood-stained sleeves into rags. Then he set to work gently dabbing at Crawly’s wounds with the damp cloth. Crawly’s muscles tensed and twitched at each touch, and each time Aziraphale stopped to check if the demon had woken. The demon in question made soft whimpers in his sleep but didn’t rouse. Aziraphale flinched at every single sound, hating the pain he was causing but continuing on. He couldn’t just leave him in this state.

Yes he could, a part of him spoke in the back of Aziraphale’s mind. He is a demon, he wouldn’t treat you with kindness if roles were reversed. Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line and ignored those thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. He was an angel and angels showed compassion. Aziraphale frowned. Except for the angels who had caused this. Maybe he should leave? He’d done enough. He’d freed Crawly. He looked down at the injured, unconscious demon and everything in him balked at the idea of leaving. He couldn’t abandon Crawly in this condition. Even if they were enemies, even if Crawly would have left him, he couldn’t, wouldn’t do the same.

Aziraphale knew Crawly was awake by the tensing of muscles all along the demon’s body. “It’s just me,” he said soothingly. Crawly relaxed instantly, at least as much as he could from the returning pain.

“Wh-wh-” husked Crawly. Aziraphale put down the rags and summoned up a cup of clean water as he moved to Crawly's head. He held the cup, and even Crawly himself a little as Crawly drank and drank. Those lovely yellow eyes watched Aziraphale and were full of questions.

“I heard what they did to you and I-well, I came to see for myself.”

Crawly turned his face from the cup and Aziraphale put it to the side. “Why?” asked Crawly, voice a hoarse whisper.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to answer that question, he was still working that out himself. “There’s time enough for that later. You should rest.”

As if the suggestion were a command, Aziraphale felt the last of Crawly’s strength leave him, leaving Aziraphale holding him up. Aziraphale lowered Crawly’s head, pillowing it in his lap. Crawly gave a soft sigh of relief as his eyes closed and he fell back to sleep. Aziraphale didn’t dare move.

****

Crawly slept for two days, his head nestled on Aziraphale’s thigh. Aziraphale sat quietly through it all. Really, it wasn’t much different from guard duty. Nothing to do but sit and think. Granted the Garden had better scenery, but Aziraphale couldn’t shake the feeling that even though he wasn't doing anything, he was doing something. Giving Comfort. Yes, Aziraphale was finding that he enjoyed that part of being an angel, helping and caring for people, far better than guard duty. And to think that Crawly had a part in that. Strange how things work out like that. Aziraphale looked down at the slumbering demon and found one of Crawly's curls wrapped around his finger.

“Now whenever did that happen?” muttered Aziraphale softly to himself. He let go of the curl and gently pulled himself free, half expecting the red lock to wrap itself back around his finger. But no, it lay where it had fallen. Aziraphale had been the one twisting it around his fingers. He felt his face warm, a new experience for him. Fresh air. Yes, that’s what he needed. Aziraphale slowly moved himself out from under Crawly, hand cradling his head and laying to rest on the mattress. Golden eyes opened.

“You’re still here?” asked Crawly, his voice thick with sleep, and sounding awed by the fact that Aziraphale was indeed there.

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, not sure what else to say. “I was just about to step out, just for a bit, mind.” 

“It’s all right, you can go,” murmured Crawly, closing his eyes again. “You’ll risk getting into trouble if you stay.”

“It’s already been two days,” Aziraphale found himself saying. “I think it’s safe.” He had decided to stop fighting his nature. He was meant to give comfort, so that’s what he was going to do. “Now, I’m going to fetch fresh water and something to eat. With as much-That is to say, you need to regain your strength.” Angels and demons didn’t need sustenance as a rule, but their corporations were physical. They could be damaged, and eating supplied energy for healing. And Aziraphale rather enjoyed Taste. It was such an interesting sense. “I promise I won’t be gone long,” he added while standing.

Crawly opened his eyes. Some emotion crossed his face but Aziraphale wasn’t sure what it was. Then those eyes traveled down Aziraphale’s body. “What happened to you?”

Aziraphale looked down at the bloodstains all down his front and his torn sleeve. He still hadn’t cleaned or repaired anything. “Oh, nothing to worry over.” With that, he gathered up the basin and headed out of the cave. He did miracle himself back to rights. But he also miracled a thin sheet of fine cloth over Crawly. He should have probably done that earlier, he realized, but he hadn’t wanted to cause pain by having anything unnecessary touch Crawly’s wounds. He glanced back at Crawly. No sound of pain, only the demon’s gold eyes watching him as he left.

****

Once Aziraphale had resolved himself to the task of caring for the injured Crawly, the why’s ignored for the time being, he set to it with cheerful vigor. Not that there was much for him to do besides see that his wounds stayed clean and that Crawly had food and water. Crawly slept most of the time, recovering his strength and putting it to healing. The burns were healing nicely, or at least Aziraphale hoped they were. They were scabbing over in shiny black like the scales of Crawly’s serpent form. That worried Aziraphale. He didn’t know much about demons, but losing human shape, even partially, couldn’t be a good sign. It was why Aziraphale insisted on Crawly conserving his energy, even for simple tasks like eating. Crawly, for his part, seemed more than agreeable to being doted on. He seemed to very much enjoy Aziraphale combing out his hair with his fingers, and he laid on his stomach and only raised his head to take the morsels of food Aziraphale offered him. All in all the demon was a very pleasant patient.

“And I really do find Taste to be a fascinating sense,” said Aziraphale as he held a grape to Crawly’s lips. “Possibly the best thing about having a corporeal form. You?”

“Until recently I was rather fond of Touch,” replied Crawly dryly before holding his mouth open for Aziraphale’s offering.

“Mmm,” hummed Aziraphale. “That one is rather nice too,” he acquiesced. Crawly’s lips grazed his fingers, warm and wet. His fingers caught that warmth and sent it down his arm and throughout his body in a ripple that Aziraphale recognized as pleasure. Aziraphale’s brows raised in surprise, then furrowed. That was strange. He usually only had that reaction to something particularly scrumptious. And he’d been feeding Crawly like this for days now. He had to have touched his lips before, hadn’t he? Why was he reacting like this now? Aziraphale ate a grape himself, deliberately brushing his fingers over his lips. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, just the usual sensory information.

Crawly, who if he’d noticed Aziraphale acting oddly didn’t comment on it, took the grape seed out of his mouth and regarded it. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“Mmm?” Aziraphale pulled himself out of his musings and got rid of his own seed.

“Not supposed to eat this.” Crawly held up the tiny seed. “But then the seeds are all you can eat in something like that.” He motioned to a pomegranate amongst the collection of food Aziraphale had gotten them today.

“I know!” Aziraphale smiled brightly and abandoned the grapes for the pomegranate, breaking it open. He helped himself to several of the tart, juicy pips, then scooped out more for Crawly. “Isn’t the sheer variety wondrous?”

“Can get a bit confusing,” replied Crawly. Then he was eating the pips from Aziraphale’s fingers. That heat washed over him again. It turned into lightning when Crawly’s tongue flicked out and lapped at the juice making his skin sticky. Aziraphale gave a small gasp as it set something low in his body aflame. His mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise, his heart racing and face burning. Crawly’s brows knit together in concern. “Aziraphale?”

“Oh,” replied Aziraphale, his voice higher and more breathless in his ears. “Excuse me. I’m still getting used to such a physical corporation. That was an unexpected sensation.”

Crawly’s eyebrows rose. “Was it now?” he asked, sounding very amused. His lips pulled back into a grin. “Want me to do it again?”

The only thing that stopped the ‘yes’ from slipping out of Aziraphale was the sudden, shocking burn Crawly’s words had caused, and the fact that a certain bit of his corporeal anatomy had quite literally stood up and taken notice. Oh! This was Lust, Aziraphale realized, his face burning right along with the rest of his body. It was a heady thing. Most likely due to the relocation of blood. Aziraphale cast a glance at Crawly who was watching him with curious attention, his lips purple from the pomegranate-

“Oh my,” gasped Aziraphale as another wave of lust washed over him. He leaned back against the wall of the cave and rode the wave, reveling in the new sensation.

“Liked that, did you?” asked Crawly, his chin now propped on his folded arms. “How was your first taste of carnal pleasure?”

“I can very easily understand why you would use it to tempt souls,” said Aziraphale with a breathless laugh.

Crawly pushed up from the mattress, putting his face tantalizingly close. “And that was just your fingers. Just think if I put my tongue somewhere else.”

Aziraphale let out the most embarrassingly guttural keen at the reaction his body gave to Crawly’s words. He quickly covered the demon’s grinning mouth with his hand. “That’s enough tempting, thank you.”

Crawly moved back just enough to free his mouth. “Can’t blame a demon for trying.” He pushed forward and bit at the sensitive pad of Aziraphale’s pointer finger. Barely more than a graze of his teeth, but Aziraphale gasped at the wicked sensations that had caused and pulled his hand away.

“I do believe I can,” retorted Aziraphale, trying to bring his body under some sort of order again. “It’s practically in my job description.” His eyes narrowed at Crawly. “And, if you’re feeling well enough to try your wiles on me-” He stopped because at that point Crawly had laid back down and let out a rather convincing sigh of relief. Aziraphale let himself believe it was genuine. He’d only been giving an idle threat anyway. His lips tried to curl into a smile, but he wouldn’t let them. “Oh, what am I doing?” he rolled his eyes at himself. “Sitting here committing Lust and practically laughing about it with a demon?”

“You haven’t “committed” anything,” scoffed Crawly. “Feeling lust isn’t acting on it. Never understood why that one was named a sin at all. Same with the other ones. If you don’t actually act on them, is it so bad to just feel them?”

“Yes, I dare say it is,” said Aziraphale plainly.

“Sloth then. How can you commit Sloth just by thinking about it? You can think all you want about how you’d like to laze about all day and not do anything, but unless you do it you’re not being, you know, sloth...ful? Sloth-like?”

Aziraphale knew there had to be a rebuttal for Crawly’s argument, but he found himself unable to think of it. He was far too occupied with the way Crawly’s mouth formed his words. Blast it all, Lust was a very inconvenient thing. “You are rather good at your job, aren’t you?”

Crawly gave a nonchalant shrug, only hissing slightly at the tug on his tender skin.

“I will have a counter for you, I just need to get my thoughts in order. If you’ll be so kind as to excuse me,” said Aziraphale, moving to stand.

“Good dip in cold water’ll fix you right up,” said Crawly with a knowing grin on his frankly devilish face. Aziraphale ignored the demon’s teasing, settling his robes around himself, and left the cave.

Dash it all if Crawly hadn’t been right. The cold water of the river did clear his thoughts. Once that was done, Aziraphale sat at the bank of the river to ponder a proper counter-argument. Crawly was a wily thing, he needed to have backup counters, a battle strategy of words. It was a bit thrilling to be verbally challenged so. Should it be though? Aziraphale pulled his knees close to his chest and laid his cheek on one. That was the worry. But, what could be the harm as long as _he_ didn’t question, didn’t falter? Having these sort of talks with Crawly, being challenged, it would only strengthen his resolve, and it would give him insight into how a demon works, which would help him thwart them. And if it just happened to be a little fun, then that was just him enjoying his work, right? That didn’t have anything to do with Crawly himself. He just happened to be a demon that didn’t seem interested in discorporating him on sight.

Aziraphale sighed and stretched out, leaning back on his arms and turning his face to the warm sun low in the afternoon sky. Crawly had been cooped up in that cave for days and days now. Maybe he’d like to enjoy some sun? There was still some time left before the sun completely set for the day. Yes, he could move the whole mattress outside and they could enjoy the last of the sun. Bask as it were, he thought with a chuckle. With a smile on his lips, Aziraphale got up to head back.

****

Aziraphale was pulled from his memories by Crowley opening the Bentley’s door for him. Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s arm and settled inside, the familiar scents of leather and Crowley’s cologne wrapped around him, warm and safe. He watched Crowley circle around the car and get in on the driver’s side. He waited until the door was shut before he spoke. “You never told me why you left so abruptly.”

Confusion furrowed Crowley’s brows. “What do you mean?”

“When you left the cave. Looking back, you were very agitated, my dear. Why?”

Crowley’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. Aziraphale panicked. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” he said, wishing he hadn’t asked. Wishing he hadn’t opened this particular Pandora’s Box. 

Crowley didn’t look at Aziraphale as he said, voice weak and breathy with nerves, “I think you already know.”


	5. Flipside Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tells Aziraphale his part of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it's taken so long to update. This isn't the entirety of what I had planned for this chapter, but you've been so patient I wanted to post something. Again, I'm sorry. Hopefully, I'll have the rest of this part done soon.

“I think you already know.”

Crowley’s fingers were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Why did Aizraphale have to ask after all this time? Why was he answering? Aziraphale had just said he didn’t have to. Crowley was staring straight ahead. He didn’t want to see Aziraphale’s expression when he figured it out.

Aziraphale’s pale hands came into his field of vision and gently pried his left hand off the wheel.

“What’re you-” asked Crowley, watching Aziraphale lace their fingers together and cover them with his free hand.

“Whatever you tell me I’ll accept and understand,” said Aziraphale, his voice was gentle as if he were soothing a frightened animal. Crowley felt like one. “And if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But, I would like to hear it from you.”

Crowley swallowed hard and glanced at the radio. “I-I’ll tell you in the bookshop. Don’t trust them not to be listening.”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale let go of his hand so he could drive. Crowley wished he hadn’t. He felt suddenly cut adrift. He tried to tell himself it would be all right. It had been six thousand years. Aziraphale had to have figured it out by now, and he was still there. That was a good sign, right?

The word, _that_ word, floated through his mind. Aziraphale wouldn’t abandon him, couldn’t abandon him. The thought brought him peace, but immediately after Crowley hated himself for even thinking it, using it to his advantage. But as Crowley drove on he knew he was going to tell Aziraphale, and he just had to hope it was Aziraphale’s kindness that forgave him. Nothing else.

****

Crawly watched Aziraphale leave the cave, grin still on his face even though the angel wasn’t looking. Once he couldn’t see the white-clad back, he counted backward from ten. When he reached one, he pressed his face into the mattress and groaned loudly. What the Hell was he doing? Why had he done that? Aziraphale could have smited him back to Hell for that little stunt and he would have deserved it. Just because he was a demon didn’t mean he didn’t have standards, or at the very least self-preservation. But Aziraphale’s reaction had just been so-so-deliciously primal. It had surprised Crawly and he had gone with it. He hadn’t thought past the doing, the running his tongue along the angel’s finger, the flush that came over his cheeks, the spicy scent of arousal warming the air around them. Oh, that had been the best part; feeling the angel’s lust, fresh and new and unknown, and knowing he had caused it. Crawly swallowed against his dry throat and let the memory of the sensation wash over him self-indulgently for just a moment before snuffing it out. He had to stop. This wasn’t right. Demon or not, Aziraphale had just put his wings on the line for him, and this was not the way he was going to repay him. He was just going to have to tone down his natural instincts and play nice. No, not play. Bad word choice. He was not going to play with the angel. He was going to be nice and polite and _not_ do this again.

Crawly nodded to himself, causing the skin and muscles in his back to stretch. He hissed in pain. It was getting better, every day there was less pain, but everything was tight where he was healing, and every shift of muscle pulled. He probably needed to move before it became worse, but it was far too nice to let the angel make a fuss over him. You didn’t get that kind of treatment in Hell, and it was tempting in a way Crawly didn’t completely understand. Like he’d be willing to do just about anything to keep the angel doting on him like that. Was that why he’d tried to tempt Aziraphale? Just a reason to keep Aziraphale’s attention? That made sense and Crawly relaxed. He was just succumbing to the temptation of… Sloth? Fuck. Crawly pressed his face into the mattress again. Well, he was actively participating in Sloth. Didn’t count. He was still right. And even if he wasn’t, he wasn’t going to tell Aziraphale.

****

“What blasphemy is this?” bellowed a gruff, familiar voice, startling Crawly from the doze he’d fallen into. Crawly was in motion a second later, scrambling to his feet, back be blessed. He spun and saw Raphael standing between him and the opening to the cave, a silver spear in his hands and pointed at Crawly. The angel wore an expression of revulsion on his face. His hands tightened around the spear as he snarled, “What have you done, foul demon? You-you-How dare you!”

Crawly held up his hands in a placating manner. “Raphael, I can explain. Just hear me out. We were friends once, and the others aren’t-”

“You and I are not friends, demon,” spat Raphael. “I do not associate with your filth.”

Crawly fought the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn’t afford to take them off the angel before him. “Listen. You don’t have to do this. You can just leave. No one has to know.” He watched Raphael’s face, hoping to see some shred of the friend he once had.

Raphael’s glare was cold. “And let you continue to corrupt another to your wickedness? Do you think I can’t smell the stench of Lust in this place? Feel the angel’s power that’s made this little nest for the two of you? It’s sickening.”

Shit. Shit shit shitshitshit! “It’s not like that.”

“Do not try to lie to me, viper.” Raphael’s whole body readied to strike. “I will slay you for what you’ve done, and then I will personally make sure your lover is cast out for this.”

“No,” husked Crawly. “You have to believe me, Raphael. I wasn’t-I mean, it’s all on me. He’s still innocent.”

Raphael hesitated, confusion crossing his features. “Are you actually pleading for another instead of yourself?”

Crawly’s heart beat staccato in his chest. “Yes! I swear to you, he’s done nothing wrong.”

Raphael snarled at that. “He freed you, that in and of itself is enough to be cast out.” 

With barely more than a twitch of warning, Raphael lunged. Crawly dodged to the side just in time.

“Raph! Come on! You know me. We used to work together. Don’t be like this!”

“Shut up!” raged the angel. “I don’t care who you used to be, Azazel. You gave up your place in Heaven. I will do what I must. You will die and the angel who helped you will Fall.”

Crawly had to do something. He couldn’t let Aziraphale Fall, not because of him. Not because of this. 

Crawly dodged once, then again. The spear wasn’t good for the close confines of the cave. Raphael could lunge, but he couldn’t swing it. He was open at the sides, but only for a second as he readjusted. Crawly just had to get close enough, but he didn’t have a weapon. At least not in this form. His mind latched onto that thought and let himself go to the change, ignoring the burning pain as his skin and muscles moved and shifted.

Raphael came at him but seemed so slow to Crawly now. Crawly saw his opening and took it. It was so easy to dart in before Raphael could guard himself. He went for Raphael’s neck, sinking his fangs deep into flesh and pivoting, wrapping his body tight. Raphael couldn’t bring his blessed spear around in time. Venom coursed from Crawly’s fangs into the angel’s veins. Raphael’s body was already going lax.

Crawly had never bitten an angel before. But this, Raphael wasn’t listening. At least Crawly could discorporate him and give Aziraphale time to get far away. Raphael would never know who’d helped them and, when he came back, maybe he’d keep his distance.

The silver spear fell from Raphael’s grasp and it vanished before ever hitting the stone and dirt floor. The angel collapsed to his knees, skin started to turn black, webbing streaking out from where Crawly’s jaws were tight on his neck. Then the body started to dissolve, starting in Crawly’s mouth. That’s when Crawly let go, the foul taste coming through even on his serpent tongue. He uncoiled himself from the discorporating angel. There was no flash of light or leftover sparkles in the air, floating motes of angel. There was nothing but a splotch of sludge on the ground that was quickly evaporating, leaving nothing behind. Crawly changed back and wiped at his mouth. He needed to leave, now. It wouldn’t take long for an archangel to get a new body. Crawly’s eyes flicked to where the spot had been. He needed to go. He needed to warn Aziraphael and then they-

They? Crawly stopped himself. What was he thinking? Patching him up and laughing over a half-assed temptation didn’t mean Aziraphale was going to-wanted to- And Crawly certainly didn’t want an angel tagging along, thwarting him at every turn. Did he?

No. Crawly would find Aziraphale and get him to leave and that would be that. Mind made up, Crawly snapped up robes and exited the cave.

The sun was setting in the horizon. Crawly held his hand up against the light. The angelic luminance in the cave had been soft and gentle; the dying sunlight felt like an accusatory finger. It took several seconds for Crawly’s eyes to adjust, just in time to see Aziraphale walking towards him.

“Crawly? What are you doing up?” asked Aziraphale, concern in his voice and face.

Crawly blanked out for a second. He hadn’t had a chance to come up with something. “I-er-I thought I’d-I would-I changed shape,” he blurted. “You know.” He made a twisting motion with his hand. “To see if it helped. My back, that is. And it did.” Not entirely a lie. “So, I should go.” He pointed away from the mouth of the cave.

“Are you sure you’re well?” asked Aziraphale.

“Yeah. All better,” replied Crawly, not letting any pain show in his face, he hoped. “So, yeah…”

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked down and fidgeted with his fingers. Was it Crawly’s imagination or did Aziraphale sound disappointed? “I suppose that would be best. We’ve both been rather lax about our jobs of late.”

“Exactly,” said Crawly, grasping onto that. “I knew you’d understand. I’ll-uh-just be on my way then. You-”

“Only, it’s almost dark now. We could just stay one more night and start fresh in the morning.”

Crawly hadn’t been expecting that. Did Aziraphale really want him to stay? Was he worried about him? Or did he just want an excuse to shirk work a little while longer? 

“That’s not good for me,” said Crawly, wrinkling his nose. “Demons do our best work at night, you know. Best time for temptations and the like.”

“Oh, yes. Quite right,” said Aziraphale sounding flustered. “Whatever was I thinking?”

Had the angel been trying to tempt him into staying? Crawly pushed that thought away. Too much time around other demons. Start seeing wiles and temptations everywhere. “Right. I’ll be going now. You should too. Don’t want Head Office thinking you’ve been skiving off work, now do you?”

That got Aziraphale in motion finally. “Ah, well. Good point. Safe travels then.” He snapped his fingers. Crawly didn’t see anything different, so he assumed the cave had been put to rights. No evidence left behind that they were ever there. “Goodbye, Crawly. It was nice to see you again.”

“Er-yeah. Same to you,” fumbled Crawly. Realizing what he’d just said he turned on his heel and walked away.


End file.
